


Nightmares / Dreams

by murdergatsby



Series: Flufftober 2018 [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Some Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, Werewolf Pain-Relief Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-28 02:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16232204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdergatsby/pseuds/murdergatsby
Summary: Post-S2 finale missing scene, where Derek takes Stiles' pain away.





	Nightmares / Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cutepoison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutepoison/gifts).



> More for Flufftober *pray emoji*  
> [(more info)](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1148888)
> 
> Today's prompt was _canon fix-it_. I don't read this specific Thing though so, I made it work for me. It's a missing scene fic. Finger guns.
> 
> Title taken from the song Tired Of This Place, by MARG.

**_“That looks like it hurts.”_ **

_“It’s fine.”_

 

Stiles sat on the concrete borders of the school’s stairs. He didn’t look up when Derek addressed him, calling to attention: the bruises on his face. He just kept looking out at the empty, night-tinted asphalt. He tried to pretend that he didn’t know Derek was still looking at him, and tried to not recoil from the sound of his approaching steps.

 _Of course_ it hurt. The entirety of his cheekbone had been bludgeoned red. His bottom lip was cracked, scabbed, and bruised. He had adopted freckles the same color as blood. His head pounded. His cheek, his mouth, his eye socket- _everything_ felt like something with fresh, swollen damage. Even the gentleness of the _breeze_ around him was _too much_ for the new sensitivities found in his face.

However, _nothing_ hurt more than the fact that people could hurt others by hurting _him_ . _Nothing_ hurt more than knowing Gerard Argent was right.

Stiles could still see the look on his father’s face when he’d been returned to him; how thankful he was, how scared- and then, how _angry_ . He could still hear the way his father had begged him to tell him who had done this to him, because he wanted to _hurt them_.

He could still hear Gerard threatening him.

_“Scott McCall finds his best friend bloodied and beaten to a pulp. How does that sound?”_

He was a _weapon._

**_“Get up.”_ **

_“What are you you-”_

Derek hoisted Stiles up by pulling on the back of his shirt. He made Stiles stand, and made Stiles face him. Stiles let it all happen with very little struggle, because he decided he didn’t _care_ what it was Derek was doing.

He didn’t care, until Derek put a cautious palm to his cheek and looked him in the eye.

_“Derek-”_

Stiles wasn’t _safe_ to be around- not, as he was. He was something easy to pick on, pick up, and would always have a target on his back because of that. To have friends- to be close- was now _a selfish act_ . People could use him to hurt others; to hurt Scott, to hurt his dad, and now- _Derek_.

 _Derek_ was touching him softly and looking into him like he _mattered_.

He wasn’t _safe_ to love.

Stiles slapped his hands at Derek’s hand, trying to get him to at least stop and _explain_ what he was doing- but, he was unsuccessful. Derek put one hand back to Stiles’ face, and wrapped the other around Stiles’ arm to hold him still. Stiles had expected the grasp on his arm to be firmer, and it made him jump- but, Derek was nothing but gentle.

Stiles hated to admit it, but Derek’s touch was the first thing that hadn’t felt immediately painful to him in _hours._ He wanted to recoil from it, because he felt be didn't deserve it. He wanted to protest and fight Derek away.

Then, suddenly, Stiles realized that he wasn’t in pain _at all_ anymore.

_“Did you do that?”_

**_“Yeah.”_ **

Stiles was still, for a long time. He looked back to Derek with a slack jaw, and tears threatening to fall from his eyes. Tears- not because he was sad, but because he was _relieved._ He could breathe again. He could _blink_ again. He figured, he might even be able to sleep.

_“Wow.”_

Derek grunted at Stiles, in the form of a response. He let Stiles go; he gave him back his arm and his face. He walked around him, away from him, and down the rest of the stairs.

Derek didn’t say or do anything else to draw Stiles attention to him, but he had the attention anyway. Looking at Derek kept Stiles’ mind from wandering back into the self-destruction and fear- and, he didn’t mind that.

 

_“Thank you.”_

**_“Don’t mention it.”_ **


End file.
